The Real Baxter (The Baxter Chronicles 1)

I’d taken more than I’d given for months, and I wanted to fix that somehow. He didn’t want my money. He wasn’t impressed with exclusive restaurants or clubs. He didn’t care about designer clothes or imported cars. He was more interested in knowing what made people tick…me specifically.

He wanted to figure me out and for the first time in twenty-six years, I wanted to let someone in. I wanted to know what he saw—good, bad, and ugly. I wanted to know if there was enough good in me to make him want to stay.

But I didn’t speak that language. Reciprocity was a different ballgame in relationships. I’d gotten it so wrong with Gray that I was still gun-shy after all these years. The Giorgios of the world might be happy exchanging sex for a gym membership, but Trent was not that guy. He was…special.

So fucking special.

I held his hand outside the restaurant as we waited for the valet to bring my car around. And he let me. Neither of us checked to see if we had an audience as we drove off. Maybe we did. I didn’t care, and Trent didn’t seem to either. He kissed my fingers once and let go to pay attention to the road.

We probably talked on the way to my house, but once again, I couldn’t remember what we said. I was too aware of the buzz and hum of electricity in the car. By the time we pulled up to the gate, I could barely hear over the sound of my own heartbeat. The steady thump got louder with every step—along the graveled path to the side entrance, through the hall, and up the stairs to my room.

I pulled my suit coat off and draped it over the chair next to the fireplace, then toed off my shoes and unbuttoned my shirt. I heard Trent move behind me. I fixed him with a curious look when he sat on the edge of the bed, still fully clothed.

I shrugged my blue oxford shirt off my shoulders, dropped it on the floor, and slid my belt through the buckle.

“You enjoying the show?”

Trent smiled. “Mmhmm.”

I pushed my trousers over my ass along with my boxer briefs. I kicked the fabric aside and moved toward him, dick in hand.

“Were you waiting for an invitation?” I asked, stepping between his open thighs.

He set his hand on my hip, kissing my stomach and the tip of my cock. “No, I just…”

I caressed his scruffy jaw and lifted his chin. “What is it? Tell me what you want.”

He fisted his length through his suit pants and reached for my cock, stroking me languidly. Which might have been nice if I wasn’t about to combust. I rocked into his touch, hoping to convey the “I’m very fucking horny” message. Trent flashed a naughty grin at me and bent to lick the precum from my slit, twirling his tongue around my crown a few times before releasing me. Unceremoniously, I might add.

He stood abruptly, fingers flying over the buttons of his shirt and undoing his belt. I flattened my palm over his taut abs, loving the feel of his warm skin and the scent of his cologne mingled with mine. I leaned in to kiss his collarbone and nuzzled his neck while he freed himself, grabbing my ass cheeks with both hands as he fastened his mouth over mine.

We quickly spiraled into a wild round of frenzied, hungry kisses and feverish groping. I couldn’t get enough. I hooked my leg over his, pushed him onto the bed, and practically jumped on top of him.

Trent laughed at my exuberance, easily switched positions, and rose above me. He peeled his shirt off and flung it onto the floor, then slid down my torso and swallowed me whole. My breath hitched as he licked and sucked me like a man possessed. I lifted my hips and tugged his hair. He got the message and went still, letting me fuck his mouth till his eyes teared up with the effort.

He broke for air, panting as he moved again. When we were chest to chest, he adjusted our cocks and bucked his hips, gliding his precum-slicked shaft over mine while he feasted on my mouth. We were a tangle of tongues and limbs, feverishly humping and grinding. He felt so good…his weight and strength. Those thick muscles and rough hands were a lethal combination.

I had a niggling sensation that I should stop him. I could come from this. Hell, it happened all the time. One minute we were making out and next thing I knew, I was a sticky, sweaty, cummy mess. I loved it. But I wanted more tonight.

Trent lifted himself on his elbows and licked his swollen lips before bending to whisper in my ear, “I want you to fuck me, Seb.”